


Contrast

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Haldir’s ill prepared for the play.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxdeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for fox-deer’s “Haldir/Glorfindel - including Haldir and a bunny costume. You're free to tweak however you want - slutty, smutty, cheeky, established relationship” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/159505234445/hi-yeaka-i-saw-on-ao3-that-you-do-requests-via).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Two hours before the play is set to begin, one of the rabbits fails to show up for the rehearsal, and Glorfindel, always willing to help Erestor during busy occasions, is sent to remedy the situation.

The road to the guest quarters reveals nothing—nothing else is out of place, save for the children running about, eager for their upcoming entertainment. Their Silvan parents hurry after them, come all the way from southern and eastern woods to share Elrond’s hospitality. Glorfindel finds himself looking forward to the festivities himself, and by the time he’s reached Haldir’s door, he’s prepared to deliver quite a stern speech—such duties shouldn’t be idly shirked. 

He knocks and hears a scrambling on the other side, followed by a muffled, _“I am not coming!”_

Too started for a reprimand, Glorfindel answers, “What?”

_“...Glorfindel?”_

“Erestor sent me; you are needed at the rehearsal.”

It’s hard to tell through the wood, but he thinks he can hear Haldir snort. A moment of indeterminable grumbling later, Haldir calls, _“One rabbit will not make any difference. I am afraid I must cancel.”_

Frowning, both from the mystery and the thought of disappointing Erestor, Glorfindel insists, “Answer your door, Haldir.”

_“I really must decline—”_

Glorfindel cuts him off, curtly commanding, “You may be a guest in these lands, my friend, but that does not give you the right to disobey a lord.”

A few silent seconds follow. It isn’t often that Glorfindel uses his title, but when he does, it’s usually quite effective, and he’s not surprised to hear the handle click and twist, the door slowly drawing back. Glorfindel pushes it the rest of the way and steps inside.

He stares for a moment, then quickly turns and fastens the door shut again. He bites the inside of his cheek as he turns back around, trying vainly to stifle his laughter.

Blushing a furious red, Haldir mutters, “It seems my mischievous brothers have stolen parts of my costume. I apologize for their immaturity—I did not think bringing them with me would prove so detrimental.”

To the intended audience of children, Haldir’s costume would indeed be detrimental, but in the privacy of personal quarters, Glorfindel finds himself grinning at it. Haldir stands before him, awkwardly tugging at long sleeves, wrapped in pure white, fluffy robes, that cut sharply off around the upper thighs—a long skirt is clearly meant to be wrapped beneath, but Haldir wears no such garment. His legs are a long, lean stretch of creamy skin until his thick boots, as fluffy and white as his robes. The paleness of the fabric brings out the peach of his flesh, his curves seeming just as supple and soft as the fur. His crotch is barely covered and sizably indented—he’s a man that clearly requires the concealment of tights to be anywhere near decent. The final touch to his sparing costume is a headband sporting twin rolls of fabric in the shape of rabbit’s ears, both hanging limply down either side of his golden mane. He looks very much like he wants to hide his face in them, but he’s a warrior, and he faces Glorfindel head on. Glorfindel spends a few moments longer than necessary eyeing Haldir from top to bottom.

Then Glorfindel finally agrees, “I suppose one rabbit will not make much difference.” Haldir rolls his eyes towards the ceiling in a visible display of relief, then glances back down to tug at the hem of his robes, trying to pull them lower. It’s no use; the outfit simple can’t be made appropriate. Suppressing another chuckle, Glorfindel notes, “But, providing no children actually see it, this is not _so_ bad.”

Haldir lifts an eyebrow as though challenging Glorfindel to find a positive, and Glorfindel steps forward. Two more, and he’s right in front of Haldir, half expecting to back Haldir into the wall, but Haldir doesn’t move. He tilts his chin up the extra fraction necessary to meet Glorfindel’s eyes, and Glorfindel takes the final step, their feet touching side-by-side and their knees brushing. Glorfindel drops his hands to the plush expanse of Haldir’s thighs, and Haldir’s breath hitches for it. The hard contours of his face are tempered somewhat by the rabbit ears, his overt handsomeness dulled into a softer kind of beauty. When Glorfindel runs his thumbs teasingly along the white hem, Haldir shivers and mutters, “I look a fool, especially next to you.”

Having not yet gotten the chance to change, Glorfindel still wears his muddied tunic and trousers from the morning’s ride with Elladan and Elrohir. He lifts one brow, and Haldir mutters, “I do not forget how gorgeous you are next to me; it is all the more humiliating to appear so horrendously before such a lovely lord.”

Through a broad grin, Glorfindel muses, “You still manage to be charming, even in the foulest of moods.” In truth, he’s seen Haldir far more upset, but this sort of petulance is a rare find. He curls his fingers around Haldir’s sides, the tips gracing the taut curve of Haldir’s buttocks. “...But surely a warrior so strong as you can overcome such matters of pride.”

“I will,” Haldir all but growls, “when I take it off.” His eyes gleam, and though his cheeks are still hot, Glorfindel thinks it for a different reason. He can feel the hard press of Haldir’s shaft against his stomach, straining through the fur covering. It reminds Glorfindel of a certain mortal saying, regarding copulation and rabbits.

He purrs distinctly, “Allow me.” And he kisses Haldir fiercely while rolling up the robes.


End file.
